Match Point
by scumisyum
Summary: No longer just about tennis, it's about sexual frustration that is no longer, attraction that is still burning strong, Paul who is the most articulate drunk Suze has met and Jesse, the one-night stand or more? S/J? S/P? Read and Review, folks!
1. Chapter 1

Match Point

Disclaimer: What makes you think I own anything?

"_**Suze, move that fine ass of your and serve!"**_

_**I don't know WHY I'm taking this sexual harassment. Maybe because the one who is doing it is so DAMN HOT? **_

_**Yeah, that sounds about right.**_

_**Paul Slater. The guy that makes my pulse run wild and my palms sweaty and my voice hoarse. The guy that can twist words and create a sexual innuendo without trying and who can make me go wild.**_

_**Yeah, Paul freaking Slater, who would have thought? He ran after me for all those years and I pushed him back and now every time I see him I want to jump him. Excuse the crud term, but the truth cannot be denied.**_

_**I think it's his voice, yeah, definitely. He has that deep timber voice that drives me insane and causes chills to run down my spine. It's delectable, that's what it is.**_

_**And GOD, I do like Paul. But can I have him? He wants me, but will I let him have what it is he desires? **_

**_I doubt it. So now I will keep playing with Paul Slater, tennis that is, and I will keep my cool, my demeanor. Whatever it is that I have, and I won't care if he makes me go mad as a hare with wanting. Because lust isn't irresistible, quite the contrary, it was made to BE resisted. _**

"_**Paul, just because you can't get such a nice butt as mine doesn't mean you should feel free harassing me. As a lawyer you'd think you'd know that it is quite a crime…" And I smile sweetly, not letting him see the desire reflected through my eyes. Because, BOY, do I want some Slater!**_

"_**Suze, we both know you wouldn't file against me…" and he flashes that grin of him, the one that is so powerful and makes me feel butterflies inside.**_

"_**And why not?"**_

"_**Because you want me."**_

_**And with that he won the match point.**_

_**A/N I don't usually right this kind of Oh-so-powerful-lust crap but I was wondering what you'd think. One shot and I hope you can review just to tell me whether I'm crap or not!**_


	2. Chapter 2

**Drinks on the Winner**

**Disclaimer: Do I look like a genius to you? Didn't think so.**

"Come on Suze, winners buy losers drinks!" He just _has_ to rub it in, huh? The guy already knows he can beat me in everything… but he just has to rub it in… grumble.

It's not my fault I don't like losing to Slater it's just that it's a chemical reaction… losing and me don't mix well. Hell, losing doesn't mix well with anything!

"Don't be sore, Simon. You'll beat me next time, I'll let you. Now, sit your ass on that stool and we'll celebrate another of my victories!"

"And he's _so_ modest!" Can't blame the guy, if I were as hot and brainy I'd have a big head on my shoulders too although he does push it a bit. But I'd rather die than let him know that I slightly understand his need to boast. Damn hormones thinking anyway!

"Why thank you Suze, I knew you'd see things my way one day. So what's it going to be?" Did you know that Paul Slater has a way of flashing smiles that can make your heart beat twice its normal rate? Yeah, I knew but it's still a shocker to see the way his mouth forms and… throw a bucket of cold water on me will you?

"Sex on the beach," hmmm, maybe I should have ordered something else cause Paul is looking at me… _mischievously. _

"Don't get any ideas, Slater."

"Me? Why, were you thinking of me or something?" ARGH! Why can't I just shut up and let his imagination wonder? It will anyway.

"Don't flatter yourself Paul; I just know how your perverted mind works." I say don't a lot in this conversation don't I? I think I'm sounding a little _too_ much in denial. But that's just me… what do you think? You agree, huh? I always knew that Paul was going to drive me up the wall!

"So, Susie," I hate him, "anything new and interesting about your life that I should know?" Aka: any guys I have to learn of and what are their weaknesses?

Yeah, I know, who would have thought that one day I would understand Paul's weird language of subtlety, but yeah, shit happens.

"Nothing, not that it's any of your business," I know that I sound like something crawled up my ass and died, but spare me. I lost.

"Interesting… Suze, drink up, we're going clubbing later."

I'm sorry, did I hear that well.

"WHAT?" I swear I almost sprayed my drink on him, he's lucky I hadn't sipped yet.

"Clubbing, Simon, ever heard of it?" Oh great, Paul is like the only guy who can insult me and uh, ask me out at the same time. Not that he's asking me out, more ordering about.

"And who says that _I_'m going?" That's what I'd like to know.

"Me, Adam, Cee-Cee and everyone who's seen you this week… you're tense and irritated so I'm here to relax you." And with a wink he got up and went to the men's room.

The guy can relax me! I mean, he turns me into goo when he's around. I just melt and spread all over the floor! But bringing me clubbing is NOT going to relax me! I mean, to go clubbing you have to find a nice outfit, great shoes… it takes HOURS of preparing and pampering. HE stresses me out… how's a girl supposed to be cool when this absolute hottie is hitting on her and teasing at the same time? It's not done… I can't go out with him! I'll lose my mind!


	3. Chapter 3

**La Musique mes Amis**

**(The Music my Friends)**

**A/N Hey people; SO SORRY I haven't updated earlier. It's like I forgot I have to continue a story… am stupid that way. So, here it is, hope you like.**

**Disclaimer: Anything you recognize, know or have seen something briefly related to is not mine. (So very, very sad)**

I went clubbing. I'm thoroughly ashamed of it but can you blame me?

I have all these convictions but then Paul says something and I'm looking at his lips and the way they move when they form all those nice, persuasive words and then I lose track of what's going and I pretty much agree to everything. Except giving in to him, blast my brain for being able to retain the simple information that however tempting Paul is I must resist him with all my being.

Sometimes I wish my being would take a hike.

So here I am, my eardrums bursting under the thumping and loud blaring of music that is reducing me to tears of boredom –I know, I'm a freak but its not my fault. Blame it on my genetic pool- and Paul is wondering about getting us drinks and getting hit on by lots of ditzy girls with fake highlights and stupid pouty lips… I should stop the jealous rage, huh?

Easy to say, not so easy to do when the guy looks so bloody edible!

Wow, I should definitely get myself some cool air.

I don't know what I was thinking. Coming here with the doable hottie and my backstabbing friends, trying to drown my lust with alcohol (which, may I remind you, isn't working; so much for drowning of sorrows) and failing miserably.

I wish sometimes that I was in that stupid roadrunner comic and that a damn piano would fall on my head, maybe then I'd start thinking right because right now I'm stuck in a vicious circle which involves me wanting Paul who wants me and I'm not getting any.

Which theoretically is a good thing but in practice? Not so good.

So, this is the story of my life from now on; lust, lust, lust, bad thoughts, lust. Now if only someone would slap me in the face or get all those naughty thoughts out of my brain then maybe, just maybe, I'd be able to lead a normal Slater-free life.

Adam is waving at me erratically, I think the guy got drunk on one beer and he's doing what can only be described as a mix of the chicken dance and the robot. A sight for sore, sore eyes…

Cee-Cee is just standing there looking at him with exasperation but I can see that, through our telepathic eye-contact, she is screaming at me to leave them be so that she might spend some quality time with the guy who stars in all her fantasies. Fantasies which I spend my time ignoring and pretend are only matters of fiction.

Paul is still at the bar getting mauled, he probably has to buy super-resistant clothing from all the groping he's getting. I feel the green-eyed beast within me surging and demanding retribution. I'm almost ready to grab a complete stranger and make-out just so I might get some kind of vengeance on the guy. Not that he'd probably notice. Or he might notice, shrug it off and walk out with some random buff girl.

God but my life sucks.

So I'm standing here, awkwardly. Some guys are giving me the eye and they're dressed up in what can only be described as clothing un-fit for society. It seems I only attract the unreasonable, adrenaline addicts and rejects of the dating cycle. Oh joy! That, my friends, is sarcasm.

There are really only two men here who are worth the trip. Paul, whom I cannot tell you enough of praise which is sad and sums up how pitiful I am of late, and this latin guy who looks like the exact opposite of my current lust-bunny. He's smiling shyly at the girls who are all but dripping slobber at his feet and ruffling his crispy hair with what I might describe as nice hands and, wait a second; Paul's back.

"So, checking out another man when I'm gone? For shame, Susie! And here I thought I was the only man, man enough for you…" Paul smirks at me. He smirks! Does he not realize how much I want to tackle him to the ground and get my way with him? God, I hope not.

"Very funny, Paul. You know that I'm too hot for you to handle," I smile at him ever so charmingly.

"Egocentric… I like that in a girl. Seems like a rubbing off on you," and the prat actually wiggled his eyebrows at me.

Am I a weirdo for finding that sexy? Show of hands who agrees; and wow, that's a lot of hands.

"Oh, shut up," I roll my eyes because hey, it's better than grabbing his head and kissing the life out of him. Wait, that sentence is completely flawed!

"Ouch. Nice come back. Now I know why I'm filling you up with booze. So you'll have an excuse for those lame-ass phrases you call repartee. Bottoms up, Susie Q," and then he passes me a beverage which looks too pink to be good and to big to be non-lethal. But what the hell, the drowning of lust is all on my ever-so busy schedule. Might as well work on it.

And that's basically all I remember of that night.

That, and waking up in a room that is not entirely my own and next to a body that definitely isn't belonging to any long-forgotten Siamese twin I might possibly have.

I'm thinking; not too good.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

**The beau**

**A/N Hello again my awesome readers! I'd like to thank all the reviewers (my ego has been boosted) and I'd also like to say I completely agree with Jessie's girl15: more Paul/Suze stories would be great. Wow, I sound so bubbly I'm scaring myself. Ok, moving on to the cool stuff (well, hopefully cool); the chapter ladies and gents.**

So… there is someone else in the bed. Someone I'm pretty sure is male and by the used condom wrapper I see strategically dropped wildly on the floor I'm going to go with it being a male body; I don't have the kind of plumbing required for _that_.

I guess I need to do a recap. This isn't Paul's room. And I know this not because I've had wild monkey sex there with him or because my lusty thoughts have gone so far as crazy stalk-age but because he forgot something there once and I was given the grand tour of his place; very fancy if you're wondering. Almost thought he was gay when I saw the joint that is until he explained that his mother had hired an interior designer, whom apparently was great in the sack. It's always nice to know that money does indeed buy happiness.

But enough with Paul's raunchy sexcapades which never fail to make me all green-eyed, I'm now in unknown territory with a human being who might possibly be ugly, stupid, ugly and stupid or just plain psycho. And I'm thinking, wow, clubbing wasn't such a horrible idea! Not.

Sometimes I know that killing Paul would make my life so much easier and my apparently non-existing sexual frustration easier to cope with.

Right now the thing I'm praying the most for is sexual frustration; I'm afraid one-night stands and me are a big no-no. Or at least they used to be a big no-no, if this is what my life is to become, a series of meaningless flings and sex I can't even remember, count me out. I'll go find Father Dominic and ask him to let me join Sister Ernestine as God's wife. Though, that would make him a polygamist… right, no more blasphemy or they won't let you in, idiot!

I should get myself faith, some kind of thing to depend on when the times get rough. Talking about rough, my head hurts like hell! I feel like someone took a club and took turns with some rowdy friends to batter me until I became mushy like under-cooked French toast.

Food comparisons, I guess I'm hungry as well. Life just keeps getting grander and grander. Now maybe if I managed to slip out quietly, locate all my clothing or really just the essentials… Damn, where the hell did my socks go!

Found one, thought you should know.

The other one is still a sneaky bugger, I hope its not trapped under the human weight that is called the boy I shagged and cannot remember. At least all I see is his back so maybe I'll be spared a confrontation and I won't have to see the face; what if it's horrible or he has one of those 'I'm-so-awesome-you-can't-get-closer-to-perfect' faces? Right, better off not knowing…

Though, perhaps if I tilt my head just so…

NO! You must resist, get your things, leave a note saying hi and bye, scamper out quickly, try and locate your destination on a map and then call the cab agency, that or Cee-Cee who might find it in herself not to mock you and give you a helpful hand.

And crap, I think shifting the weight on the bed when I leaned towards his hidden face might have been a bad idea, because the body is moving ladies and gentlemen and that does not look like a sleeping person. More like a disgruntled, hung-over person.

I guess I wasn't the only lousy drunk at the club though I really CAN'T believe the others would let me walk away with a random stranger. What if my drink was spiked!?

Hell, who am I kidding, Cee-Cee and Adam were probably too busy munching face and Paul was probably getting laid already, that or off groping some attractive girl with zero brain cells in a dark corner or outside alley. He's such a classy debaucher that way. Ha! Sarcasm, got you!

Right, back to the hell that is my life.

So, body, unidentified and moving. And its turning… still turning; and wow, he's hot. And he just caught me looking at him like a deer caught in the headlines. Well, at least I'm not a naked deer.

Still, wow, can't believe I managed to have a hot one-night stand. One for the books: alcohol does not necessarily enhance people's physical features!

And I'm still looking at him without reacting. I think this moment is awkward, so awkward I'm cringing, as in literally. _Literally_ cringing.

"Hello?" I say, because god knows that's the best thing I can say.

"Buenas dias," the guy answers. And hell yes, it was the hot Spanish guy from the other night. So, if we speak different languages maybe we can say it was all a big, BIG, misunderstanding.

"Right, um, look…" I tried to say something constructive, but all that came to mind was I was in a random guy's room, trying not to look like a complete retard, I probably looked like a mess and I don't even WANT to smell my own breath.

"Ah… yes," The guy sits up but he does pull the bed sheet with himself which shows that he's not a pig or louse. Good qualities in a man, which means I'm probably pickier drunk then sober. That is sadly depressing. "I would like to apologize for last night, I'm afraid I don't…" He continues looking as awkward as I feel.

"Remember?" I continued for him because I'm helpful that way and contributing to this conversation is better than standing there looking at him wide-eyed and idiotically.

"Si, si. I don't remember. Do… you?" He looked at me with rather expressive brown eyes and I must say; impressive. _Very_ impressive.

I shook my head in the negative and gave him a shy smile because that's the least I could do and then we got talking and, well, funny thing, I ended up staying for breakfast.

So, that is the story about my breakfast with the Spanish guy who's name turns out to be Jesse, well, that's his nickname. His mother called him that, can't blame the woman, he was saddled with a name like Hector after all. Hector de Silva, aka Jesse. I'd take Jesse any day.

Finally, as I was leaving, the sweetie actually called me a cab and was going to pay the fare though feminism reared its ugly head and so I ended up with one big ass bill. But the thing is, he asked for my number.

Wanted to "do things properly" were his very words and so, I suppose, the one-night stand is no more. But yet, well, what am I supposed to say to the guy. Hi, you're great, sex was probably great, I'd love to not feel like cringing if I did bump into you in the streets later on in life but I'm completely and utterly attracted to this guy I know and that is despite the many flaws I can tell you about. Still want to have a go?

Yeah, that would work out so well.

Anyways, later on in the day, I got back home, turned on the answering machine and this is the message awaiting me:

"Suze, my girl, where are you? Cee-Cee and Adam say they haven't seen you around in a while and I'm at loss about where you went after our fifth shot, or was it twelfth? Crap, maybe we should cut ourselves off, yeah? Anyways, if you snuck off back home I'm going to kick you ass, well, if I can. Though I probably will be able to if I'm this coherent now, or maybe I am pissed drunk… I'm a lawyer; I say big words all the time! See you soon, Simon, I'm going to go grab a cab and pass out of my couch because I believe it's highly, HIGHLY, improbable that I shall make it to my bed. Good day, Susie Q. Good day!"

And I wasn't sure if I should laugh, cry miserably that it was I who left the sex god's company and not the opposite, or call him and tell him about my life.

The latter won.

And so, that's how I ended up being the butt-monkey of Paul's jokes for what, a week or two?

Life is grand my friends, life is grand. Well, that's what they say.


	5. Chapter 5

Bubble-gum and Lemon

Bubble-gum and Lemon

Disclaimer: here we go, again, telling you readers I own nothing when technically I do have SOME things. Like a vocabulary. But obviously I don't make any money from this or from the mediator books because then I'd just sell off any random post-scrip I wrote. Right, too much? Shutting up now.

A/N I'm BACK! Ok, so I was looking at my works thinking, have I not been updating lately? Answer: yes. So here is a new chap folks. Hope it's not too sucky.

Enjoy, read and review!

Chapter FIVE: (Oh, yeah!)

"Suze, are you calling yourself my butt monkey again? I thought we'd talked about this. Inner monologues make you seem _insane_ and do _not_ give you that air of sophistication you seek so."

Three guesses who said that and two of those are wrong. Yes, okay, I'm a sorry loser who's hanging out with her crush of forever waiting for my ice-cream to melt into a huge puddle and like this I'll have an excuse not to finish it.

Have you ever bought a flavor anticipating the best taste ever and then finding out it sucked?

Well, I have.

So, we're outside eating ice-cream and Paul is making eyes with a girl as he's eating lemon sherbet.

I want lemon sherbet… stupid bubble gum flavor… stupid blonde tart sitting on the opposite bench. Grumble, grumble.

"Susie-Q, I know that I was calling you crazy a few seconds ago, but you know I was joking don't you. No need to grumble under your breath."

I turned to look at the most idiotic man on the face of the world and before I could slap him on the back of his every so nice springy, half-curled dark hair, I saw his face. Why, why, why! Why must Paul look so devastatingly handsome?

"I know, I know what you're thinking, why am I so _devastatingly_ handsome? Well, Simon dearest, what can I say, maybe it's the genetics, maybe it's the fact that God loves me. All I know is that there's no cure for _this_ curse…" And the dumbass sighed.

Of course I can't let Paul go on believing… the truth. So I lie, because god knows a man with that ego will never make it in the world. Why his head just might implode.

"Paulie-poo, if you're that handsome, why is it that you're sitting here all on your lonesome with a crazy girl?"

"Didn't you know, Simon. Crazy girls are the new sexy girls. Didn't Senor Spanish tell you?"

Oh, here we go again.

"I'll have you know his name is Jesse."

"_Right_, sorry, I just can't remember his name but hell, it's a lot more than _you_ remembered that particular night, right?"

And the stupid pratt just smirked with his perfect, white gleaming teeth, which made me look away and sadly watch my ice-cream, still semi solid.

Life sucks.

A few minutes passed by during which I watched the blonde summon up the courage to approach Paul only for him to decide we should get a-cracking and FINALLY giving me the opportunity to ditch that sucky, sticky little blob of disgusting ice-cream. Never again, that's for sure.

No more fake tasting bubble-gum crap.

Well, except for actual bubble-gum.

So, we were walking, enjoying the sun, thinking what can a person do to pass time with their crush and friend. And then my phone rang. Which, well, shouldn't seem so amazing, I guess. But hey, my life, my story!

Anyhoo, answered the phone, nearly dropped it and looked Paul's face go to smirking, artistically uninterested, curious, pouty and finally bored.

Meanwhile, I was talking to the one and only Jesse, artfully not mentioning his name out loud and hoping that Paul couldn't detect Spanish accents from the other side of a telephone conversation. After all, that weirdo has certain powers that seem a bit to peculiar if you ask me.

Though the whole making a girl flushed thing is genuine… wow, I sound pathetic. Right, back to the phone conversation; I was asked on a date.

I know, now that is something worthy to write home about. Which I won't. Mother dearest has always wanted me to show an interest in men and squeals every time a boy looks my way. Hell, even the fact that my four year old nephew always wants to hold my hand makes her sprout tears. Very strange, really… And the rest of the family is no better. She re-married Andy, who's awesome and cooks really well. But with Andy came Sleepy, Dopey and well, the only one I really do get along with Doc. Okay, those aren't there real names but they say a lot more than Jake, Brad and David. Well, the boys grew on me in the end but let me tell you a teenage girl meeting her future already teenage (and other) brothers for the first time, not so much fun, no.

Then came meeting Cee-Cee and Adam. And Paul.

Wow, I have to meet more people. Or not. Seeing as the last person I met I can only remember meeting when I woke up after a night of what was hopefully good sex.

Anyways, date tonight with Jesse whose last name is apparently de Silva. I believe I'll be finding out many things about him. Hopefully nothing of the gross, get away, I've got mace variety. Because that would just be plain sad and then the jokes would really never cease.

"Gorgeous hunk of man to Suze," Paul of course.

"Ah, yes, hello. How are you?"

Wow, random.

"Suzelina? Are you alright there? Did you find out someone broke into your apartment and stole a pair of shoes? Because I'm sure the police force is making that their top priority and the case is already underway!"  
"Sarcasm, how new."

Oh, I am good.

"Well, good to know you're back in the world of semi-intelligent beings. So, who was it, what was it, and please tell me its something juicy?"

"When did you come out of the closet, and why didn't I notice?"

Paul just laughed, very attractive manly laugher. Oh, shut up Suze, you're going on a date. Tonight. With ANOTHER man. Focus on that last part.

"Ah, darlin'. Ain't no other gal for me but ye."

And here comes the fake Texan accent. If only he realized what a douche he sounded like.

But it's still pretty funny.

"Aaah, somebody's giggling. We all know what that means… TICKLE-FEST!"

And so I never told him. But what Paul doesn't know can't hurt. Right?


End file.
